


Remembering

by Virtual_Reality



Series: Steve and Bucky through the years [16]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Humor, Anxiety, Bathtub Sex, Bottom Bucky, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Counter Sex, Fake Science, Fluff and Smut, Guest Stars, M/M, Mirror Sex, Protective Steve, Steve Feels, Tony Being Tony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-16
Updated: 2015-04-16
Packaged: 2018-03-23 03:31:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3752863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Virtual_Reality/pseuds/Virtual_Reality
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>GUESS WHO GETS TO SLEEP TONIGHT!</p><p>I'm so proud of myself! I'm gonna cry!</p><p>Hope it's okay, and doesn't seem choppy, rushed or inconsistent.</p><p>Etcetera.</p><p>Again, forgive my mistakes.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Remembering

**Author's Note:**

> GUESS WHO GETS TO SLEEP TONIGHT!
> 
> I'm so proud of myself! I'm gonna cry!
> 
> Hope it's okay, and doesn't seem choppy, rushed or inconsistent.
> 
> Etcetera.
> 
> Again, forgive my mistakes.

When Bucky opened his eyes, he saw high ceilings of brushed steel, and upon glancing around himself, equipment for miles. The very first thing he noticed was the IV, and made a move to take it out only to find himself strapped down. Instantly he was struggling, trying to get loose. Someone had removed his arm, and he felt anxiety crawling just beneath his skin at the dawn of fear, and helplessness that clutched at his heart. He searched around himself until he caught sight of another person in the room, shorter, and much less intimidating than James had expected, but he'd learned long ago that looks meant little about what someone was capable of. Approaching him, this man was calm, and confident, and James is instantly afraid of him because of that.

"Good morning, Sleepyhead. Did you enjoy your coma??"

"Where's Steve?" James asks, forcing his breathing to even out. "Where am I?"

"Outside somewhere," the man said with a wave of his hand, "Walking Beau." "Where am I?" James asks, then adds a quick "Sir." to the end when the man gave him a disbelieving look. James wasn't worried, not really. Steve was close by. "Oh, Jesus, no, none of that polite shit. Honestly. I know you old people have some kind of..." he made a nonsense gesture. "Fetish or whatever, but please, call me Tony." "Okay," Bucky says, very slowly. "Tony. Where am I?" "Stark Tower. Obviously. You're in my workshop. Steve brought you here after you passed out. Don't worry, you're perfectly safe." He moves from his desk to a workbench where he's working on something... Silver.

Had he passed out?

Bucky strained to remember something - anything - that had happened before he'd blacked out. He remembers his shower, he remembers talking to Steve, he remembers hearing about his sisters, and a cat called peaches, and something about a bookstore. He remembers panicking. He remembers shaking. The splitting headache, the ringing in his ears, the clammy skin, the knots in his stomach. He remembers Steve, hands on either side of his face, urging him to breathe. Then, there was nothing.

Bucky looked around, feeling strange, almost detached, needing more information, but feeling too overwhelmed to even think about putting anything else in his aching brain.

"How are you holding up?" Tony yells across the room, and Bucky jerked his head around to look at him. He doesn't have Steve's bedside manner, that's for sure. "Like, your emotions and shit. I'd like a five minute warning if you plan to blow shit up. Are you feeling homicidal at all?"

James rolls his eyes, and slumps back in his chair. "No more than usual," he sighed, then, after a minute, adds: "but I am hungry, so I wouldn't put it past me."

Tony snorted, "Charming." He walks back to his office chair, and slides across the floor to his desk. "So. Hungry. Yeah. You'll have to wait for Steve. Or Pepper." He types on his phone briefly. "Right, so... Anything else to report?" He asks absently.

"Mostly confused," he wet his lips, "and horny." He tags onto the end to see if he was really listening.

A small smile quirks on Tony's lips, but he doesn't look up. He kicks his chair around, rolling back up to his desk where a plethora of projections were being designed as 3D blueprints.

"What happened?"

Tony's back went a little stiff, but the tension was gone just as quickly, "You had another relapse," he explains quietly.

James doesn't like the sound of that. "Is anyone hurt? Did I-?"

"Steve's fine." Tony brushes him off before he can finish, drinking deeply from a mug, "Bumps and bruises. He's had worse. Already healed up, and that apartment? It needed to be renovated anyway. Trust me. You did it a favor."

Bucky glanced at the drop, then back at Tony and decided to take a chance. Tony didn't seem like the type of fella to mind that, "Is there any way I could get you to take this IV out?" He pauses, then continues with a quick explanation when Tony gives him a wary glance. "I'm prone to anxiety when people are pumping drugs into my body."

Tony picks up his phone again, typing a bit, and placing it back on the desk, "Let me wash up first." He walks to a sink and eyewash station not far from him, and Bucky took a moment to observe their little makeshift hospital room. It would be hilarious if it weren't so eerie.

"Did you set up this hospital thing for me?" Bucky asked incredulously.

"Don't flatter yourself," Tony called from the sink, "You aren't the first person to get impromptu medical treatment in this room." He came into James' line of sight, "I detest hospitals."

"So it's not some practically used fetish setup?" Bucky asks, dryly, "Because these straps aren't agreeing with your logic."

"Don't be ridiculous," Tony pulled on a pair of latex gloves, "You have way too much clothing on to justify that accusation."

Bucky pursed his lips, but said nothing more as Tony approached his bedside:

"I need you to relax, okay?"

Bucky nodded, and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Two fingers are pressed to his pulse, and Bucky closed his eyes. Tony began unstrapping him, freeing his arm first, then removing the IV, and pressing a cotton pad in the crease of his elbow, directing him in bending his arm to hold it in place.

Tony unstrapped the rest of his body afterwards, and lingered around the edge of his bed long enough to tell him not to touch any of the shiny things.

"You do realize you haven't explained shit to me, right?" James sighs, "What'd you do?"

"I- we had this theory, Steve and I, mostly me, that your recovery was part physical. That the drugs, and shock treatments, brain damage, blah blah blah, were suppressing your memory, and withdrawal was causing these relapses." He was already wandering off. "Of course the damage isn't all physical," he shouts over his shoulder, "and the serum doesn't do shit for mental health, but, hey, we did what we could. Also, teamwork, yeah? I want credit for that. For science."

"Serum?" Bucky prompted, "I'm sorry, what? You skipped."

"We gave you a blood transfusion," Tony answers with a wave of his hand, "Just enough to get the serum into your bloodstream, and let it work its magic. You're slow, Barnes."

"Is Bucky giving you a hard time?" Steve asked, as a way of greeting.

Bucky looks up to see Steve enter the room, Beau in his arms. James pressed a hand to his chest, trying to adopt an astonished expression, "Who, me? I would never do such a thing."

"Of course not," Steve murmurs, and reaches to take his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, "Feeling any better?

"Still drawing breath," Bucky sighed, and Steve moves closer, "Recovering more every minute." He says, a bit dryly.

"Hang in there." Steve whispers, "I'm not giving up."

And that was their cue to be ushered out of the lab by Tony, sent upstairs so he could work in peace. James doesn't know how he equates his music to peaceful, but to each his own, he supposes. While Steve's apartment was under renovation, as Tony calls it. (Construction, as Steve calls it.) They bunk at Stark tower. Tony gives them an entire floor so they'll have space to, quote, spread their wings, and Bucky doesn't know what to do with all the space. It's bigger than any apartment he's ever seen! Steve doesn't seem to either, and Bucky's glad they have this, at least, in common.

Since the transfusion, Bucky's felt different. Not a lot different, but there was a little something there. Maybe it was nostalgia, that Steve cares so much for him that he'd give his magical super blood to help him. Maybe it was something else. He doesn't know. But he feels something. For the first time in a long time.

It wasn't how he expected it to be. Remembering. It was quieter. There was no shocks of memory. Flashbacks that left him panting on the floor, unaware of how he got there. It was just a slow drip. A seeping of memory in the cracks of his mind, so subtle, he might not even notice he's remembered something until it slips through his lips while he's talking to Steve.

He hates it when this happens, because then he has to look at the hope in Steve's eyes, only to disappoint him. Steve is great, James really likes him, and getting to know him again, and can see how, maybe in another life, he could be James' everything, but he just doesn't feel it anymore.

Friday night, Steve gets it in his mind that a bath is a good idea, so they can bathe, or bond, or fuck, or who knows goes on in his mind nowadays. James doesn't think it's such a great plan. He's still without his prosthetic, and he doesn't want to be that vulnerable. Still, Steve is insistent, but gentle, talking about the size of the bathtubs here like it was the best thing since sliced bread, and Bucky couldn't bear to crush his hopes.

It takes a moment for Bucky to feel comfortable enough with the idea of settling on top of Steve, naked and vulnerable, in the bath, but when he did, Steve relaxes beneath him into the warm water, and his arms twine loosely around him. Even once he's in the tub he can't keep his eyes from flitting around the room rapidly. He's just so worried, his breathing edging on hyperventilation, and when Steve coaxes him into resting his head on his broad chest, Bucky's fingers slip over his skin, searching for a grip on something. He can't even balance himself. He needs his arm, he can't get a hold on anything, and just then - Steve takes that hand, kisses his sudsy fingers, and gets a better hold on James body to make him feel better supported.

James feels like he could cry, but it's just the suppressed panic. Too overwhelmed, scared, confused, and for some reason, emotional. Like, really fucking emotional. His fingers curl tightly around Steve's, echoing a certain desperate need to know this was real. To know he was safe.

It's the first time Bucky has been without his prosthetic for as long as he can remember, which wasn't long, but still, it's scary. He still has his entire shoulder, and part of his bicep, which are covered in deep, rude scars. Scars that cover his shoulder and back, too, James knows that they're ugly, and hates that Steve won't stop looking at him. He doesn't know why he ever agreed to this.

"Go on and say it," James spoke up, his voice was weak, wavering, then breaking off at the end, almost sounding angry from the fear, and emotion, "I know you're thinking it."

Steve traced Bucky's scarred left collarbone. Bucky didn't flinch, but his muscles were tense, and he braced himself for the words.

Steve sighs, and hums softly, "I remember hiding my face here the very first time you fucked me."

Bucky is startled into silence for a moment, and Steve's fingers find a dip above his collarbone.

"My nose here, so I could breathe." He tilted his head, pulled him closer, and tucked his face in Bucky's neck. Slowly. Carefully. Like pieces of a puzzle, his nose at the dip above his collarbone, lips barely touching skin, his arm wrapped around Bucky's back, palm pressed between his shoulder blades. "'Cause my left was my good ear, and you'd whisper t' me." Steve sighed, alone in his moment of nostalgia.

"I still can't believe you were a little fella."

Steve smiled crookedly, "I might have a photograph or two. Didn't care much for drawing myself."

"Mmm." Bucky cups the back of Steve's neck for support, drags his thumb across the skin there. He knows Steve was little, he dreams about it sometimes, it was just hard to understand.

Steve uses his arms to support Bucky's weight, shift him around until he could ease him down to rest on his chest, head against his right shoulder so Bucky's arm is free. "I get to be on your left for a little bit." He bit James' earlobe gently.

Bucky just nodded, minutely, and Steve pushed his hair back.

There was so much Steve wanted to say. It brought back so many memories, sitting in the bath with Bucky, but it wasn't the same. Bucky wasn't the same. Steve wished he would relax. Wished he wasn't so tense as he rested in Steve's arms. His jaw was set, his brow, wrinkled, and Steve felt it wasn't his place to say what he felt. That he shouldn't tell Bucky of these sweet memories he treasured, because that was the past, and this is now, and maybe he gets James back, but Bucky isn't there anymore.

"Steve?" Bucky says, his fingers gripping his hand tightly, and he fixes him with a serious expression because he knows what that something that was bothering him was. He remembers something. "Steve."

"Yes?"

"Do you remember when you had pneumonia, and you passed out in the street?"

Steve's hand tightened on Bucky's, "Yeah."

"I carried you home... You were in a coma for a few days."

Steve nodded, a crease forming between his brows, "I remember."

Bucky wet his lips, "So do I."

His eyes are still distant, and unfocused, but in that moment, there's a glimmer of hope, and Steve can't help himself. He lifts Bucky's face, cupping his jaw, and kissing him.

James sighs, and rests fully against Steve, letting his arm curl around his shoulder when Steve's hands go to his ass, pull him closer. James slides more fully into his lap, and kisses him deeper. It's careful and slow, and Steve can sense Bucky's anxiety. He can taste it on his hesitant lips as he poured everything he was feeling into the kiss. Pain, relief, fear, lust, having all these feelings, and a few he couldn't even categorize all at once. It was overwhelming, all the emotion swarming inside him, and he used the kiss as an outlet. Poured himself into it, emptied himself of every feeling save the soothing touch of Steve's mouth.

When James pulls away, Steve still has an arm around his hips, keeping him steady, and James was slowly starting to calm down. Steve's eyes land on his, and he lowered them deeper into the water, resting back against the edge of the tub. James went along with it without hesitation, sinking contentedly into the water's warm embrace, letting it flow over his skin, taking the stress with it as it recedes, dissolving his troubles in the steamy bath

Their movements are still slow as they kissed again, but when James took the time to lead Steve's fingers back to his ass, Steve knew what he wanted, and if he'd sacrificed his balance to ask for it, Steve wouldn't deny him that.

Steve's touch was gentle and unhurried, feeling over Bucky's skin. Where the muscle was tense, where it was relaxed. Where his skin had goosebumps, and would they appear if Steve touched him there twice, and eventually, Steve's hands did return to Bucky's thighs, feeling along the water softened skin to his ass. Bucky rested his head on Steve's shoulder to prepare himself to relax, and Steve put forth the effort to make sure he kept a bit of distance between James' head and the water, though the tips of his hair was already wet, and curling in towards his face in a way Steve found ridiculously endearing.

He fingered him slowly, taking his time to make sure Bucky was sufficiently prepared, both physically, and emotionally. Soon, Steve would let Bucky have a turn. He'd offered many times, but James had accepted only once. It took a lot of control, a lot of vulnerability, and with Bucky's anxiety, eyes darting around the room, too paranoid to let go, and enjoy himself, it had been disastrous. Now that James was recovering, he might like to try again, especially with the serum fresh in his bloodstream, and Steve was only too eager for that. It was a constant struggle, being dominated by his own desires, and he knew he'd have to keep a close eye on him. He only hoped the relapses were over for good now.

With a leg on either side of Steve's hips, and strong hands supporting him, James lowers himself onto Steve's length with a breathy moan. He leans back against Steve's thighs, giving himself a few minutes to adjust to the feeling of being filled, though he was hardly a stranger to it nowadays. Steve didn't seem to notice how his body had accommodated to their sexual agenda, and always spent too much time on the preparation part of it, but James wouldn't stop him. He enjoyed the foreplay, and Steve was so good with his hands... Bucky touches his chest, drawing his fingers through the droplets of water that linger on his torso, fingers slipping easily over the wet skin, then dipping beneath the water to touch himself. He can feel the tension draining away from his body as Steve begins moving, the stress blotted away, and replaced with the quiet him of pleasure.

At first, Bucky thinks they chose the worst possible location. The tub may be big, but it barely accommodates them. Then, as he builds a rhythm, he finds that the tub kept them contained, keeps him balanced, and it was much better than being exposed and vulnerable on the flat surface of a bed, at least until he has his arm back.

James managed small, fluid shifts that never stop, wet skin sliding easily against wet skin, and with the addition of a little soap, their skin is slippery, and allowed for a smoother rhythm. Steve's hands gripped his hips, guiding his movements, rocking his own hips to help take some of the work from Bucky, but even with that, Steve could only handle so much of the slow pace, and when the pleasure is stretched too taut for him to stand it any longer, they climb out of the bath. Steve throws a towel over the countertop before lifting Bucky to rest on the edge, who instantly wound his legs around Steve's waist. The steam still rising from the tub filling the air, and fogging the mirrors, but when James looked to his right, he could see their blurred reflection in the full length mirror All of Steve, and most of James, and from this angle, especially smudgy and vague, he almost looks perfect. You almost couldn't see the evidence of the damage done to his body, but when Steve follows his gaze, he grabs another towel from the rack, and wipes away the condensation that blurred their reflection, and looks back to Bucky. It wasn't what James had wanted, per se, the perfect view of himself in such a vulnerable position, he hated his reflection, but he was glad he could watch Steve. Study his expression as he slides back inside him, and James sees the shift of the muscle that bunches beneath Steve's skin as he moves, he can't tear his eyes away. Sex never looked as good as it felt, even in pornography, there were frequencies of pleasure that can only be appreciated in an abstract way, and that can't be portrayed in body language, and it's especially not seen now in the smudgy bathroom mirror, but watching how Steve moved was beautiful, and until he quickens his pace, and Bucky loses focus, he studies the lines and shapes of Steve's body. With his hand behind Steve's neck, and his back braced against another mirror, Steve fucks him harder, groaning softly into the thick warm fog. James wishes more than anything that he had his other arm, or maybe that they could've been in bed. That somehow, he could be closer to Steve. He doesn't quite have enough to lose himself, and he's almost glad. This way, he can watch Steve as he loses control. It's a beautiful thing to see. Even just watching his eyes, half lidded, and fluttering, a few shades darker than James remembers them, especially as his pupils dilate when he tries to focus in on him. Seeing him unable to think, seeing him undone, was beautiful. When Steve finishes, he kisses Bucky, then drops to his knees, and goes down on Bucky for thanks. It's not even James' favorite part of the evening, but that was all it took to pull him under, dragging him in over his head in barely any time at all. He didn't know what had changed, what had been done, but with the heat of Steve's mouth on him, he wasn't long at all. It had been too early to slip into bed, but lying together, already in pajamas though it was barely suppertime, wasn't something James was willing to give up, and sprawled on the thick plush carpet with Beau, Steve held him, keeping him feeling safe and warm, long after the pleasure had faded.

**Author's Note:**

> Guest stars make me so happy... Tony is so much fun to write!
> 
> Not my best smut, but there will be other scenes. I'm still getting back in the swings of things.
> 
> Now, time to start on the next chapter... XD
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Goodnight.


End file.
